Tuesday, August 30, 2016

At the international convention of Higashi Honganji
(Otani-ha) temple members called “World Dobo Gathering” held this past weekend
(August 27-28) in the Los Angeles area, there was only one talk that struck me
even though there were many talks given by a wide variety of speakers, some I
highly respect (and some, not so much). That talk, early on the first day, was
part of a “young scholars” presentation, to show the general membership that there
are some up and coming scholars of Buddhism interested in the Higashi sub-sect
of Jodo Shinshu. Melissa Anne-Marie Curley, assistant professor at Ohio State
University, was the first of the three to speak. Even though she and the other
two were at last year’s International Association of Shin Buddhist Studies
conference in Berkeley, I missed their talks because they were scheduled the
same time as panels I was obligated to attend.

[photo taken at WDG 2016]

What Melissa said really captured the essence of Buddhism,
that essential message that gets lost in the presentation of Buddhism in the
West by the more high profile groups, Zen, Tibetan and Theravadin (the original
three wheels that Tricycle magazine referred to in its early years). It is not
enough for Buddhists to learn that the individual sense of ego-self is a
delusion – there has to be the experience of living as “no-self.” That direct
experience of reality is found in community with all beings, which Melissa said
is what the philosopher Tanabe Hajime referred to as “Amida Buddha, not a One
or Many,” but beyond such categories. She said while Mahayana groups hold up
the “virtuoso bodhisattva” as the model to strive for, in Jodo Shinshu, we are
inspired by Shinran who honored all beings as his siblings, feeling closely
related to all of them. He didn’t just call them his fellow travellers on the
spiritual journey, but his esteemed (using the prefix “on-“) fellow travellers (ondobo,
ondogyo).

If there is no sense of connection (tsunagari, in Japanese) to all lives, then there is no experience
of reality. It’s easy for monks and certified meditation adepts to claim they
are unattached to the ego-self, but if they guiltlessly look down on others as
“ignorant,” “needing to be awakened,” “shallow and unskilled” etc. etc., they
are the ones trapped within walls of delusion. Shinran’s teachings remind me
that there is no justification for considering myself superior to anyone else,
but too many other presentations of Buddhism tell people it’s okay to put
others down and feel you’ve earned your perch above the unwashed masses.

The very busy two-day event had poignant moments of reality
as community for me. Although as I said, I didn’t think much of some speakers’
talks, I was touched that one speaker I was very critical of gave me a lovely souvenir
(omiyage, product of your home area
that you give to people you visit) and it reminded me how indebted I am to him
because of all the help he gave me. I always complain that these big gatherings
don’t give us much time to listen to and discuss the Dharma, but this time I
felt it was a Dharma lesson about the sense of community to be chanting,
singing and dancing (yes, we did Tanko Bushi) with all the three hundred or so
attendees that I may never know well, agree with or see again. We can’t help but
feel connected by coming together. Just to eat together is literally sharing
life, as the words in our before and after meal recitations remind us that we
take in the nourishing substances of other living beings.

There were times when I needed a break from the crush of
bodies, but I think even the most introverted people can feel a sense of
community by relating to others from afar rather than cutting off contact with
feelings of hatefulness (labeling the other people as “toxic” or “stupid”
etc.). In the calls and emails our temple receives from young men looking to
join a Buddhist monastery, I hear their desire to run away from people they
can’t deal with (e.g. bosses, parents, women) and to be in the company of
like-minded men striving for some “perfect” state of mind. Monastic life can be
useful for some seekers, giving them a break from society’s expectations (as in
the case of women who couldn’t or wouldn’t be wives and mothers), but a monk in
a mountaintop retreat can be more trapped in individual ego than someone out in
the world, dealing with a whole variety of people on a daily basis.

The thing we must not forget whether we gather with three
hundred people from around the world at a classy hotel or attend a Sunday
service at our local temple is that we are just as connected to those outside
the building as we are to those inside with us. At all these Jodo Shinshu
gatherings in North America, we keep hearing the refrain of “the teachings
aren’t just for the ethnic Japanese – somehow we have to reach those outside
the Japanese community.” If ever the karmic effects of our thoughts have power,
we should be envisioning all kinds of people as our spiritual siblings. Not
that we can use telepathy to draw people to our temples and make them join, but
if we ourselves can feel the connection to everyone, regardless of their
religion or lack of it, we are experiencing the reality of community.

So I’m very grateful to Melissa Curley for bringing out that
essential message of Buddhism and pointing out the way for us to live it.

Saturday, August 6, 2016

No one from the Midwest Buddhist Temple seems to be reading
my blog despite the number of times I’ve mentioned them, so I’ll go ahead and
bring up my recent experiences at their temple.

A couple of our temple members went with me to sit in on the
new Tannisho class at MBT. Some important Shin Buddhist concepts were presented
but somehow I felt like I didn’t hear much about the Tannisho itself.

After the class, I observed that the attendees were rather
quiet (compared to the noisy discussions at our temple) and one BTC member
who teaches at the nearby community college said her guess is that they didn’t
feel comfortable speaking up. As a teacher she’s learned to encourage student
participation by giving students a chance to put their voices out there – to
introduce themselves and read passages from the material. She said teachers in
training are warned to avoid the “sage on a stage” mode, when the instructor
stands up in front of a class as if they are the fount of all knowledge looking
down on the ignorant masses far below.

So the next week when I was asked to present Chapter Two of
the Tannisho, I kept in a sitting position except when I wrote on the
blackboard and I had the attendees introduce themselves and read the passages
so they could each other’s voices and not just mine. A few people ventured to
make comments or ask questions, so it felt a little more like a discussion and
not totally a one-way presentation.

I told them that in reading the Tannisho they should think
of Shinran sitting around with the people who called themselves his followers
(he called them ondoboondogyo “esteemed fellow travellers, esteemed
fellow practicers”). They’re all sitting on the same level, perhaps drinking
tea and munching on sweets together much like we were doing. I told them in the
portrayal of the historical Buddha in his teaching pose, he is sitting down,
moving his hands while talking. I demonstrated with fingers facing up,
gesturing, “Hey, what’s a matter you?” (Actually Buddha said, “What’s a matter
me?” – the first noble truth.)

[detail from woodcarving by Harry Koizumi]

The Buddhist texts tell us that the historical Buddha and
probably all the great teachers engaged in dialogue, not monologue – they sat
together with the people, not behind a lectern on a platform. Although in some
texts we hear the answer but not the question, I feel the original setting for
all the teachings was in informal conversation, not in an auditorium lecture.

People who’ve been to Japan have seen that at most temples
and particularly at Jodo Shinshu temples, there is no elevated portion of the
hall – no stage. The temples in North America followed the Christian model of
raising the front of the room as a platform. I’ve heard it said that because we
sit in chairs (or pews) and not on the floor, we need to see what’s going on
around the altar. But there’s no ritual justification for having to see the
ministers. The altar – the Buddha image and adornments – is what we should be
looking up to.

When our temple was erecting its new building in 2006, some
of us lobbied to eliminate the raised platform, but the head minister insisted
on it and a ramp had to be built to comply with ADA regulations. To me it’s
very cumbersome to climb up on the platform for chanting and climb down at
funerals for the Dharma Name presentation and at Sunday services for the Dharma
talk. Being at an elevated level means I better make sure the socks (tabi) I’m wearing
are in decent condition – no holes or stains.

Maybe in Western culture there’s the image of the great orator
standing far above the crowd or some Western Buddhist teachers like to perpetuate
the idea of the wise man perched on the mountaintop of wisdom. But if we look
at Shinran and Shakyamuni Buddha as “regular guys,” we can see them sitting
down for coffee or drinks as one of us. Just as they tell parents and grade
school teachers to squat down and talk face-to-face with children, it’s best
for anyone who conveys the Buddhist teachings to take a load off their feet and
go eye-level with their listeners. Because of the way American temples are set
up, it’s hard to avoid the “sage on a stage” mode in conducting services, but
in our study groups we should be sitting on one level to demonstrate Shinran’s
feeling of ondobo ondogyo. To study a
text such as Tannisho is about learning together, listening to and respecting
each other.